


The Closet With Two Doors

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Biphobia, Bisexuality, Coming Out, F/M, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inception Bingo, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 10:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: Graduate school AU. Upon starting a new relationship with Ariadne, Eames finds himself coming out in ways he'd never expected and having to correct a lot of assumptions and misconceptions.Warnings for biphobia, as well as references to past homophobia and a homophobic slur.





	The Closet With Two Doors

**Author's Note:**

> My second Inception Bingo offering this year, this one is for the "coming out" square on my card.

Though he didn’t realize it until he came in the apartment door and saw Cobb scowl at him, Eames whistled the whole way home from his afternoon seminar. He’d probably cut a comic figure, jogging across campus in his old jeans and moth-eaten sweater, his shoulder bag swinging, whistling jauntily. Hopefully he’d made someone laugh.

“What has you so cheery?” Yusuf asked, strolling in from the living room. The TV was paused in the middle of a game of Mario Kart. Yusuf had to be the only person alive who thought it was fun to play Mario Kart alone.

“Nothing.” Eames said, putting on the tea kettle to boil. “Just had a good seminar.” It wasn’t nothing, not exactly, but it wasn’t something worth telling yet, either.

Yusuf rolled his eyes. “That’s a something face,” he chided, but then dropped it, distracted by the book Cobb was reading. “You mixing physics with your psychology now, Cobb?”

Cobb smirked. “Just looking for new approaches,” he said. Then, to Eames, “Are you cooking tonight?”

Eames shook his head. “Traded nights with Arthur.”

Yusuf and Cobb both groaned. Eames’ cooking was significantly better than Arthur’s. “Sorry boys,” Eames said, “group project session.” When the water boiled, he began his elaborate tea-making process, not bothering to ask if the others wanted any.

The four of them cohabitated pretty well, all things considered. Four graduate students would never have an easy time finding individual housing in San Francisco--rent was just too high--but they had at least managed to find an apartment with a room for each of them. One of the bedrooms was so tiny it was probably intended to be a closet, but Eames drew the short straw and didn’t complain about it too often. He spent a lot of time in the studio anyway.

The interpersonal dynamics were a little tricky. Eames and Yusuf had dated for about a year, several years back, and occasionally something would come up about that time that had doors slamming (Yusuf’s) or faces red with shame (Eames’). Even longer ago than that, Cobb and Arthur had a somewhat serious relationship, which ended in a strong friendship, but still made some issues sensitive. Complicating things further, Eames and Arthur had, in the first weeks of the group’s living arrangement, started a sort of hate-to-lust on-and-off fuck buddies relationship, so it was never quite sure how they would treat each other at any given moment.

“Put four gay guys into a house together, you’re bound to get some drama eventually,” Yusuf said philosophically, on a night when Arthur had broken a bottle very near Eames’ head. “At least we don’t have to pay for cable.” For the most part, it worked out.

Eames spent the few hours before his study session taking a nap, then taking a shower and changing his clothes. When he came out, ready to leave, he was wearing slightly nicer jeans and a plain t-shirt, throwing a cardigan over the top as he walked.

Arthur, who had arrived home at some point while Eames was sleeping, looked at him skeptically. “You have a date?”

Eames shook his head. “Study group for art history.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You’re dressed up for a study group.”

“Says the man who wears three-piece suits?” Eames smirked.

Arthur didn’t press. They were on tentative good ground right now, neither shoving each other into corners to furiously make out or shoving each other into corners to fight. Not that you could always tell the difference between the two.

“Boys are excited you’re cooking for them,” Eames teased, reaching over to snatch a piece of diced carrot from the cutting board Arthur was using. “They just love your creativity.”

Arthur groaned. “At least I use recipes. You just make shit up.”

“Ah, but darling, the shit I make up is fantastic!”

Arthur snorted. “Go. Have a good study group, Mr. Eames.”

In truth, Eames had dressed carefully, and his earlier whistling had been for a reason. He was making progress. For several weeks, his eyes had strayed far more than was polite to a woman in his advanced art history seminar. She was very small, with dark hair and bright, intelligent eyes. She asked a lot of questions, almost demanding, and made insightful, thoughtful comments. She saw things in the frescos they were examining that Eames hadn’t seen, and she laughed when he made a low off-color joke within her hearing. Today, apropos of nothing, she’d started a conversation with him, asking about what he did outside class, whether he was TA’ing. It hadn’t been precisely flirtatious, but he thought she might just not be the flirtatious type. It had definitely been something worthy of further consideration. He hoped that consideration could begin tonight.

When Eames entered the library, most of the group was already sitting around a large table. The girl--she was called Ariadne, which was another about her he liked--saw him come in and gestured to the empty chair next to her. “Hi,” she said. “I saved you a seat.”

For the next two hours, Eames contributed absolutely nothing to the group discussion of political influences in Roman architectural details, or to their plans for scale recreations with present-day politics influencing their renovations. Instead, he focused completely on Ariadne. He turned his body toward her, watched her lips as she spoke, and replied to her every question with clear attention. He’d been told, way back on his nanny’s knee, that the fastest way to win a woman was to make her the center of your world. So, for those two hours, that was precisely what Eames did.

At the end of the session, he was rewarded. The group members began to pack up their things and leave; Ariadne waited. He waited, too, trying to appear cool as he leaned against the table. Finally, when everybody else was gone, she looked up at him. “OK,” she said, “what is this about?”

“What is what about, petal?”

She rolled her eyes. “You. Paying so much attention to me. What do you want?”

Eames grinned. He loved how forthright she was. “What if I just want to pay attention to you?”

Ariadne shook her head, but she was smiling. “I find that suspect.” She gestured toward her pile of books and papers. “Do you want notes or something? I mean, you missed one lecture last week, but I don’t think that was any big deal…”

Eames cut her off. “Notice when I miss a lecture, do you?”

She blushed slightly.

“No, my dear sweet one, I am not after you for your notes, brilliant as I’m sure they are. I’m just interested in you.” Since she was playing things open, he may as well meet her halfway.

She looked a little confused. “Interested? Interested how?”

He quirked his head. She couldn’t really be this oblivious, could she? “The usual way, I’d expect.” He reached one hand out and used a single finger to trace the lines of veins of the back of her little hand where it was pressed against the table top. “Do you want to go out with me?”

She frowned. “OK, I don’t know how to say this without being rude…”

He interrupted again, pulling his hand away. “Oh. If I misread you and you don’t want to, please don’t worry about being rude. My mistake.”

She blushed harder and shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...aren’t you gay?”

Eames frowned. “Um...no?”

She looked skeptical. “I saw you, maybe...three or four weeks ago? In the law library lobby? You were with a guy with dark hair? In a suit?” She said everything like it was a question, though there didn’t appear to be an actual question among them.

Eames nodded. “Sure. That’s Arthur. One of my flatmates.”

Ariadne’s skeptical frown intensified. “You were kissing. A lot.”

Eames laughed at her little frown. “Alright, I know when you’re meaning now.” He sat back down. If this was going to require a longer talk, he may as well be comfortable. “That is still Arthur, and he is still one of my flatmates. But we occasionally...get carried away?” He shrugged in a way he hoped was endearing. “We’re not dating or anything. That’s been made perfectly clear. Me going out with you wouldn’t be any kind of cheating. I go out with lots of people.” He kinda wished he’d left off that last bit, but he still looked at her hopefully.

Her expression hadn’t changed. “But...they’re men, right?”

Finally, it occurred to Eames that her actual issue wasn’t with him potentially having a boyfriend, it was with him potentially having a boy, period. “Oh!” he said, glad it could be cleared up so easily. “No, no. I’m bisexual. Or...I guess the better term is pansexual? Or maybe omnisexual?” He shrugged. “I’m not rightly sure. Bottom line, I like all kinds of genders, and all kinds of bodies, and I’m not fussed about how the two match up.”

He’d hoped this would put everything to rights and Ariadne would smile again, but she still looked unsure. “OK,” she said. “So...I really don’t want to be rude, or anything? But even though some people think I look like a little boy,” she gestured down to her body, presumably indicating her small breasts and narrow hips, hidden as they were by the way she was sitting, “I’m...a girl.”

Eames couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, love, I know.”

“And that’s not an issue?” She still didn’t appear to quite believe him. “I mean, you said you like both, but...you don’t prefer boys?”

He frowned. “No. I prefer the people I prefer. Right now, I prefer you.” He didn’t want to come off defensive, but this wasn’t something he’d expected. Sure, it had been a while since he’d asked a woman out, but he didn’t remember it ever going quite this strangely before.

“OK,” she said. She was smiling again, tentatively. “Then yes. I’d love to go out with you.”

Eames smiled back. “Great! What do you want to do?”

She looked thoughtful a moment, then said, “you’re an artist, right?”

He nodded.

“Have you seen the Magritte show at SFMoMA yet?”

Eames’ eyes widened. “No! That’s perfect! You’re into surrealism?”

She nodded. “I’ve been trying to get over there.”

By the time they walked out of the library, they had plans to see the exhibition two days later, and Eames was whistling again.

* * *

Eames’ date with Ariadne went even better than he’d hoped. The Magrittes were fantastic, and she proved the perfect museum companion, moving through the exhibition at neither too fast nor too slow a pace, patient as he occasionally sat down to capture something in his sketchbook. As she did in class, she asked a number of interesting questions, and she wasn’t afraid to offer her own observations.

After they finished at the museum, Eames and Ariadne went for an early dinner in Chinatown. She was an adventurous eater, and a lover of spicy food, which Eames found equal parts arousing and endearing.

“Are you on Muni or…?” Eames asked as they left the restaurant. “I could see you home.” He raised an eyebrow only slightly. Though she’d been affectionate during their date, leaning up against him and touching his shoulder, she hadn’t given any strong signal as to whether she was up for more.

She smirked. “I am on Muni, and don’t play coy.”

He grinned.

She appeared to give it a moment’s thought, then shook her head. “I am going to go home now,” she said. “Alone.”

He pouted.

“That’s quite the look,” she said gently, but he could see her pupils widen. “I will see you in class.” She paused, then stood on tiptoe, pressing her lips quickly against his. She stopped before he had time to return the kiss. “And if I could see you again outside of class, I’d like that, too.”

“OK.” He nodded and smiled. “I would, too.”

“You have my number. Have a good weekend.” She reached out again and hugged him, tight and quick. “Thank you for a lovely day.”

Over the course of the following week, Eames saw Ariadne nearly every day. They met for coffee, or grabbed lunch, or, one pleasant afternoon, took a long walk. She remained at an arm’s length, physically, but he was having a good time anyway and didn’t want to pressure her, so he waited.

A week after his first date with Ariadne, Eames was in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich, when Yusuf strolled in. “Barely seen you this week, mate,” he said, leaning over to snag a piece of cheese. “You’re seeing somebody, aren’t you?”

Eames smiled. “Maybe. Too early to talk about it yet. Don’t want to jinx it.”

As he said it, Cobb joined them, also leaning in to steal some of Eames’ cheese. “Jinx what?”

“Eames is seeing somebody!” Yusuf crowed.

Cobb sat down at the table and looked mostly disinterested. “That’s nice,” he said. “Anybody we know?”

Eames shook his head. It was superstitious, maybe, but he wasn’t ready to tell his friends about Ariadne yet. They were in that fairytale period, still new to each other, still circling with equal parts caution and excitement. He wasn’t ready to share it.

Arthur had noticed Eames was out of the apartment more than usual, too, but his inquisition about it was far less friendly. “Do you plan on doing any fucking chores this week?” he asked, accosting Eames the moment he walked in the door on Saturday morning, on his way back from the gym. Arthur was scowling at a sink full of dishes.

“Sure, of course, darling,” Eames said, placating. At Arthur’s insistence, the four of them had a cooking schedule and a chore schedule, and though he’d done his cooking over the course of the week, he’d ignored his assigned chores. “Today. Promise.” He smiled. “Don’t frown, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Arthur glared. “Maybe if you were ever here, you’d have time to do your part.” He was looking down into the sink, not at Eames.

Eames chuckled. “You used to complain I was here too much, Arthur. What was it, ‘always sitting around in your underwear, eating Popsicles?’ Asked me if I had any friends, if I recall.”

Arthur just smirked. “Still a valid question,” he muttered into the stack of dishes.

On Sunday, Eames and Ariadne went to a late movie. Leaving the theater around midnight, the street was quiet in a rare, magical way. The film had been silly, but the air smelled good, and Ariadne was beyond cute. Eames didn’t think about it before leaning down and kissing her, showing much more intent than he had in any previous instance. After a moment, he realized what he was doing and pulled away, looking ashamed. “I apologize, Ariadne. I shouldn’t have done that. At least not without asking.”

Ariadne grinned and shook her head. “Probably true,” she said. “But do it again.”

They stood in the middle of the sidewalk, her pushed up on her toes, him leaning over a bit, and kissed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he put one hand on the small of her back. She smelled like soap and pencil shavings and mint tea. He breathed her in and ran his tongue along the path of her lips. She opened her mouth and let him in.

“Jesus, get a room,” someone groaned, pushing past them and reminding them where they were. They pulled apart, both grinning.

“Come home with me,” Eames said. “It’s not far.”

Ariadne looked indecisive, but only for a moment. “OK,” she said. “But ground rules first.”

Eames raised his eyebrows. “Hit me,” he said, taking her hand and turning toward his apartment.

“This isn’t us being boyfriend-girlfriend,” Ariadne said. “I don’t know about you, but that’s not something I need right now. I want to keep hanging out, and I have a hunch sex with you will be fun, but we’re not soulmates.”

Eames laughed. “Agreed.”

“And no bullshitting about it, either,” Ariadne continued. “If that feeling changes, honesty is the policy.”

“Afraid I am going to fall in love with you, petal?”

She rolled her eyes. “Stranger things have happened.”

“OK. Agreed. Any change in feelings rates a talk. What else?”

She looked less self-assured. “Um...I don’t do anything really kinky.”

Eames tilted his head and looked at her with curiosity. “OK. I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t completely comfortable with. Of course.” He frowned. “Did I do something to make you think otherwise?”

She pursed her lips. “No, it’s just...with you being...pansexual or whatever? I thought you might have...expectations?”

Eames stopped and pulled on her hand slightly so she was facing him. “I’m not sure what you think it means to be bisexual or pansexual,” he said, “but it isn’t associated with kink one way or the other. What I told you, that I’m bisexual, that just means that I like men and women. Now, it happens that I also like some kinds of kink, but that’s a separate issue, and it’s not one that we need to go into. I am perfectly happy to have the world’s most vanilla sex, if that’s your preference.” It didn’t quite sit right with him, her thinking he’d want things she wouldn’t want to give him. He was very serious when he said, “look, Ari, if you’re not comfortable sleeping with me, then I don’t want you to do it. I’m not going to get mad or anything. We can still hang out.”

Ariadne shook her head with a little more passion than he expected. “No. I want to.” She blushed a little. “I really, really want to. I just...sleeping with all kinds of people must mean you have all this experience. I don’t want to...bore you.”

Eames grinned. “I have yet to be bored in your company for even a moment, my dear. And we’ve had our clothes on the whole time!”

“I’m serious, Eames.”

“I know you are, but honestly, you’re worried about nothing. Yes, I have had a lot of sexual partners. Yes, they have occupied various places along the gender spectrum. Some of it has been good, some of it has been great, and some of it has been pretty lousy, but none of it has been boring.” He smiled at her with all the warmth he was feeling. “And it’s not a contest, love. Not at all about who can get freakiest. I just want to touch you.”

Eames saw Ariadne’s little shiver, though he knew she was trying to hide it. “OK,” she said, taking his hand again. “Then lead the way.”

The universe granted Eames a favor when they entered the apartment to find the lights off. There was a glow coming from under Arthur’s closed door, and Eames could hear the low murmur of Cobb on the phone in his room, but none of his flatmates made an appearance. He led Ariadne directly to his room.

She giggled when he shut the door behind her. “Your room is tiny!”

“I know,” he shrugged. “I lost the toss. The ‘oom, we call it. Not even a full room. But it does me alright.” In truth, it was cramped as hell--a narrow bed, a chest of drawers, and piles of clothes and books. “It’s a disaster, but I’m not apologizing. I am a slob and I make no excuses.”

Ari shrugged. “I’m a slob, too. At least it doesn’t smell.”

The stood a moment, only inches apart, as the room didn’t really allow for more. Then, Ari leaned over and unlaced her boots, then pulled them off and lined them up next to the door. She sat on the bed and looked at him expectantly.

Eames grinned. He kicked his shoes off as well, leaving them where they landed, and sat on the bed next to her. “I’m want to kiss you again,” he said.

“I wish you would,” she answered.

They moved slowly, making out for a long time before things went any further. It was comfortable, friendly. After she undressed, Eames unhurriedly examined Ariadne’s body with his fingers and mouth, delighting in her fragile collarbones, her little breasts, the curve of her narrow waist. “You’re so small,” he murmured, spanning her stomach with one palm.

“My brain is big,” she muttered, lifting her hips up to encourage his hand lower. “And so is your mouth.”

Eames laughed.

“Take off your clothes,” she ordered, scowling at him in mock anger.

He did, stripping quickly and with confidence. She looked him up and down. “You’re gorgeous. But you already knew that.”

He shrugged. “Does the job.”

She shook her head. “You’re not fooling anybody.”

He laughed. “What do you want?” he asked, pulling her underwear down with his thumbs, exposing a neat mound of curls. “Shall I go down on you?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

It had been quite a while since he’d gone down on a woman, but nothing had changed. He still loved the feel and smell and taste. Ariadne let him ease her legs up onto his shoulders and she was quiet as he licked into her, but her tightening grip on his hair let him know he was on the right track. It took awhile before she came, but when she did she pushed into his mouth without inhibition, breathing heavily but not calling out.

Sitting up and wiping his mouth, Eames grinned down at Ariadne. Her hair was spread out over his pillow, her cheeks red. “That was good,” she said, “Should I…?” she gestured to his half-hard cock.

“Will you let me fuck you?” he asked. “It’s OK if you say no.”

“Of course it’s OK if I say no,” she said, smirking. “But yes. If you’ve got a condom, yes.”

He wasted no time in suiting up, and she spread her legs wide, urging him onto his knees between them. “It’s OK,” she said, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer to her. “I won’t break.”

It was good. She moved easily with his rhythm, wrapping her legs around his waist and squeezing around him tightly. She remained quiet, but watching her face gave him a good gauge of her enjoyment, and he held off for awhile, trying to draw it out for her. “It’s OK,” she finally breathed, bucking against him. “I probably won’t come again. Don’t wait for me.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “This feels good. Don’t hold back.”

He took her at her word, and was climaxing soon after, biting his lips to keep from making noises that would get him glares from Arthur and whoops from Yusuf in the morning.

They laid together afterward, sated and comfortable, Ariadne half on Eames’ chest. “God, I’m sleepy now,” she groaned, beginning to pull away.

He grabbed her wrist. “Stay, if you want,” he said. “I’ll make you breakfast, even.”

“You sure that won’t be weird, with your housemates?”

“Nah, not a big deal.” He pulled her back down onto his chest. “Stay.”

“OK,” she yawned. “But if it’s awkward, I’m blaming you.”

They were asleep in minutes.

* * *

When Eames and Ariadne came out of his room the next morning, holding hands and smiling, all three of Eames’ flatmates were in the kitchen. Arthur was reading the news on his tablet, a cup of coffee going cold in front of him. Cobb and Yusuf were attempting--and mostly failing--to collaborate on an omelet. All three of them turned and stared.

Eames introduced Ariadne to each of them in turn. Cobb was polite and distant, as he tended to be with everyone. Yusuf was cheerful, asking immediately for Ariadne’s vote on whether it was gross to add canned jalapenos to the omelet and delighting when she sided with him in thinking it sounded good. Arthur shook her hand, unsmiling, then left the room.

Walking Ariadne to the bus stop, Eames apologized for Arthur. “I have no idea what that was about,” he said. “Arthur gets in snits about things. It probably had nothing to do with you.”

Ariadne laughed. “Oh Eames, surely you know that’s not true.”

Eames shrugged. “Hard to tell.”

“He’s got a thing for you,” she said. “That off-and-on friends-with-benefits thing you told me about? Looks an awful lot like something more.”

Her tone wasn’t accusing, but he felt cornered all the same. He shook his head. “It’s really not,” he said. “That was his choice, Ari. I tried to make it more, once. He shut that down. Really.”

She looked at him intently. “OK,” she said. “But I think there’s more to it than that, with him.” She kissed him softly as the bus pulled up.

Back in the apartment, Eames was met at the door with Yusuf’s prying face. “That’s who you’ve been seeing?” His eyes were wide.

Arthur had returned from his room and was making a new pot of coffee. His shoulders were hunched.

“Yes,” Eames said. “Ariadne is a lovely girl. I have no idea why you were so fucking rude to her, Arthur.”

Arthur spun around, and Eames was surprised to find his eyes blazing. “I was a bit shocked, Eames,” he said coldly, his voice at odds with his face. “I tend to assume the men I fuck are gay.”

Eames was puzzled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t appreciate being used as some sort of Kinsey exploration, before you get serious and go back to being straight,” Arthur snapped. “It’s fucking gross.”

“What the everloving fuck…?” Eames took a step toward Arthur, his fists beginning to clench. “I’m bisexual, Arthur. That’s never been a secret.”

Arthur just glared harder. “Really? Somehow, I don’t recall you mentioning it.” He snorted. “Trust you to draw your experimentation phase out until you’re nearly 30.”

“I’m not fucking experimenting!” Eames had tried to remain calm, but his voice rose on every word. “I’ve been bisexual my entire life. This may be news to you, but it is in no way news to me.” He turned to Yusuf. “You knew I was bi, right?”

Yusuf shrugged. “I guess I thought you’d gotten over it? You haven’t dated a girl since...first year of undergrad?”

Eames’ face was flushed and his breathing had begun to quicken. “You don’t...get over it! This is who I am! It’s not an experiment, it’s not a phase. I am bisexual.” His mind corrected, to pansexual, but given how dense his flatmates were being, he decided not to further complicate things.

Yusuf shrugged again. “OK, mate. Changes my worldview a bit, but OK. Sorry, didn’t mean to misidentify you.”

Cobb was sitting at the counter, quietly eating while the conversation progressed. “Do you have something you need to say about my sexual identity, too?” Eames asked him, buying some time before he turned on Arthur again.

Cobb shrugged. “Doesn’t make any difference to me. I’m not going to date you.” As usual, he didn’t seem particularly interested.

“Great.” Eames said, then he turned back to Arthur, who was pressing buttons on the coffee pot with ferocity. “Now, you. Figure out what the fuck is twisting your pants so we can deal with it.”

Arthur’s voice remained calm and cold. “I was misled,” he said. “I thought my friend Eames, and the Eames I occasionally let into my bed, was one thing. He is something else. My mistake. Thank you for finally coming out and making it all clear.”

Eames exploded. “I am not coming out! There was no in!”

“Seems to me there was,” Arthur replied. “You know, I spent four years in the Army, hiding who I was. Before that, I spent 18 years in a small town in fucking Missouri, hiding who I was. While you were playing British heir playboy, I was getting spit on and beat up for being a fag. I waited a long fucking time to be able to be out, and be proud. And you’ve always just...been whatever you wanted to be. And now you admit you’ve been sleeping with women the whole time? That what, it’s all the same to you?” His voice started to rise. “Fuck you, Eames. You don’t get to claim something the rest of us had to fight for just because it fits in with your stupid fucking sculptures and your organic food and your politics. This shit is real.”

Eames' eyes narrowed. “You absolute fucking prick,” he spat. “You think you have the market cornered on queer? There’s some sort of test you get to mark, decide who qualifies?” He shook his head in amazement. “You’ve been with me, Arthur. You’ve been IN me. You know it’s not a fad, or something for...what, hipster points? I’m exactly as gay as I was yesterday, which is exactly as much as I was the day you met me. Nothing has fucking changed except you.”

Arthur started to walk out of the room, but he looked over his shoulder to answer. “Something has changed, Eames,” he said. “Her.”

* * *

The apartment was tense for several days. Yusuf and Cobb knew to avoid both Eames and Arthur when they were fighting. Eames spent most of his time out of the apartment, with Ariadne or in his studio. Arthur spent most of his shut in his room.

It was usually Eames who made the first move toward reconciliation. He was less stubborn than Arthur, and generally less patient. One night, several bottles of beer in, he pounded on Arthur’s door. “Get out here, you pompous prick,” he called. “We’re going to have this out!”

Knowing how unlikely it was that Eames would stop without satisfaction, Arthur opened the door. “For Christ’s sake, Eames.” He shook his head. “Get your drunk ass in here and we’ll talk. There’s no use making a performance of it.”

Surprised, Eames entered the room. It was, as always, neat and spartan. He sat down on Arthur’s tightly made bed and looked up at Arthur, who was pacing. “An apology might be a good start,” he prompted primly.

Arthur glared. “I’m not fucking apologizing. You apologize.”

Eames frowned. “What do I have to apologize for, exactly?”

“Lying.”

“I didn’t lie, Arthur.” Eames sighed, He’d given this quite a bit of thought, and talked to Ariadne about it at length. Honesty he reminded himself, was the best policy. “I did, perhaps, neglect to mention a few things.”

Arthur snorted.

“Look, I didn’t do it on purpose,” Eames continued. “I never sat down and thought, hey, don’t tell Arthur you don’t just like men. I just...I think I suspected you’d think less of me if you knew?” He smirked. “Turns out I was right.”

Arthur sighed and pulled a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I have a problem with bisexuality, Eames,” he began.

Eames interrupted. “Except you clearly do.”

Arthur paced. “No. It’s just...I never expected you to be someone who does things halfway.”

“Halfway?” Eames shook his head, irritation already building. “I’m not half-gay. I’m ALL bi. I don’t get how this is a hard concept.”

Arthur was quiet, gathering his thoughts. “I used to think,” he said slowly, “about you and I being together. Together, for real.”

“I tried that, Arthur. You said no.”

“I know. And I’ve regretted it, since. But now...I feel like I dodged a bullet.”

Eames winced. “Why? How does this change anything?”

“I always had this feeling,” Arthur said, slowly, “that no matter what you said, I’d never really be enough. You’re always looking for something new, something more...and I was right. I wouldn’t have been. You’d always have wanted a woman.”

Eames sighed. “I cannot fucking believe this backward fucking country,” he groused. “What do they teach you people in school? No. That is not what being bisexual means, Arthur. It isn’t wanting women to be men or men to be women. It isn’t being unable to be monogamous.”

Arthur interrupted. “But you are unable to be monogamous. Yusuf has made that much clear.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Yes! I cheated on Yusuf. I have cheated more than once. That has nothing to do with being bi. That’s me being a dick. For whatever it’s worth, I cheated on Yusuf with another bloke. Being bisexual doesn’t mean you’re kinky, or you’re greedy, or you’re confused.” He wanted to reach out and shake Arthur, but he contained himself. “It just means you like men and women. And, in my case, also people who don’t identify within that binary at all. You trying to put all this other shit on me? How is that different than the assumptions people make about you because you’re gay?”

After a moment, Arthur sat down on the bed, as far from Eames as possible. He still looked sullen, but he spoke quietly. “Why didn’t we work out then?”

Eames frowned. “Because it wasn’t what you wanted.” He wanted to reach toward Arthur, decided against it. “I was ready. I wanted it. You know that.”

Arthur shook his head. “You said you did. But whenever I pulled away, you ran right out and found someone else to fuck. You were never willing to give it a minute of extra time.”

Eames was flabbergasted. “You made sure I knew it was never anything serious! I took you at your word! How is that my fault?”

Arthur shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. You’ve got your girlfriend.” He looked away.

“No fucking way,” Eames said. He did reach out this time, pulling Arthur around to face him. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shut down now.”

Once Arthur was looking at him again, Eames continued. “Ariadne is not my girlfriend. Like you, she made it clear at the outset that she’s not looking for a relationship.”

“So what is she, then?”

Eames smiled. “She’s great. I think we’re getting to be good friends.”

“But you’re sleeping together.”

“We slept together once.” Eames considered, then continued. “To be honest, I don’t think it will be any skin off either of our noses if we don’t do it again. It was nice, but...no sparks, really?”

Arthur looked profoundly uncomfortable.

“Jesus, Arthur, does the very idea of my having sex with a woman bother you that much?” Eames shook his head in disbelief.

“No, you asshole,” Arthur growled. “The idea of you have sex with someone who isn’t me bothers me that much.”

Eames was struck silent. Before he could find words, Arthur gritted his teeth and continued. “I knew you were seeing somebody. You get so dopey about it, all smiles. And I fucking hated it. I hated every minute, before it even occured to me you could be seeing a woman.”

“Arthur, you don’t get to not want me and not want anybody else to have me, either.” Eames’ voice was soft. He felt out of his depth.

Arthur looked down at his lap. “I know.” He swallowed hard and then looked up. “But what if I do want you? Is that offer still open?”

Eames was quiet. He wanted to say yes, to shout yes, to jump onto Arthur. But things had changed, and there was something he needed to be clear about. “I’m still very attracted to you,” he said. “And I’d love to give it a try, for real.” He licked his lips. “But Arthur, I can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me for who I am. I am bisexual--pansexual. It’s not a phase or a fad--it’s my sexuality. And if you can’t accept and respect that, the same way I accept and respect that you’re gay, then I can’t be with you.”

Arthur met Eames’ gaze, his eyes steady. “That’s fair,” he said. “And I am going to be honest--I don’t get it. When I came out, started going to LGBTQ events and stuff, there were always people who said they were bi, but...they always seemed like maybe they just wanted to be part of the club? Like it wasn’t real to them? And that’s how I’ve always thought of it.” He shrugged. “Most of them are married now. To women.”

Eames frowned, and Arthur continued. “I’m willing to learn, though,” he said. “I’m willing to try.”

Eames chewed on his lip. He wasn’t sure that was enough. Nobody in his acquaintance was quite so stuck in their own ways as Arthur. To change his mind about anything was a long, hard road. Would this be any different? Before he could figure out what to say, Arthur spoke again. “I get that I fucked this up, Eames. So I propose a deal. You...do whatever you want to do with Ariadne. Keep seeing her, just be friends, whatever. Give me some time to educate myself and get my head around you being bisexual.” He squared his shoulders. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or give me another chance right now. But if I can figure this shit out, will you consider it then?”

Eames smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I will.” He moved forward a little. “Can I hug you?” Arthur was never a big hugger, but Eames figured he had the high ground so he may as well use it.

Arthur nodded and moved forward into Eames’ embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


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